


What Could Have Been

by JenniferHawke, KristaRabbit



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bittersweet, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Love, Passion, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sexual Content, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferHawke/pseuds/JenniferHawke, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristaRabbit/pseuds/KristaRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted so badly to live in a world where they had the luxury of spending passionate, quiet evenings wrapped up in one another. He never stopped wishing for a normal life for both of them. Maybe if he had never screwed things up by allowing Justice to merge with him, they would be together right now living happily ever after in a cottage with little apostates running around driving them crazy.</p>
<p>But he had. And they would never have the chance to find out what might have been.</p>
<p>One evening; that was all she wanted, but one evening would ruin them both and they knew it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> Fighting love that runs through our veins  
> Is an empty space  
> Alone again  
> I hear you cry  
> Every night  
> In my dreams  
> I'll take it back  
> I'll bring you home  
> I won't lose hope  
> I will bleed  
> All of me  
> To set you free  
> Dagger deep  
> Blood ran over me  
> Every melody you ever sung to me  
> Floods my memory  
> I can't breathe  
> I vow to right this wrong  
> I promise here and now  
> I've loved you all along.
> 
> \--Valkyrie II: Lacuna  
> Varien, Cassandra Kay

As Marian Hawke entered the main hall of Skyhold, she noted the much cheerier atmosphere compared to when she’d been there last. The grand castle served as a refuge to her when she aided Varric and the Inquisition in their fight. Before her Dwarven companion reached out to her, the apostate chose to remain unseen for years, evading those who wished to seek out the once Champion. But for a friend? Her friends were like family to her. She had come as soon as she read Varric’s letter.

Adamant had been a cruel torment, one she wanted to push out of her mind. Leaving seemed to do the trick for a time, but nothing kept such memories at bay forever. Months passed before she could even consider going back to Skyhold. Then a letter addressed to her came from Ambassador Montilyet, opening the door for her. While Hawke was leery about returning, it would be good to see Varric once again. Distance and circumstance often kept the two apart. The world had been unkind to Hawke, so she took advantage of chances to reconnect with her friend whenever opportunities presented themselves.

Laughter echoed through the large halls. For a time Marian stood off to the side, taking in everything before her. It brought her joy to watch the Inquisitor being celebrated after such a feat. She recalled the impressive feast Kirkwall threw her after defeating the Arishok. They treated her with respect then, a figure to which all looked up to. But after the mage rebellion in Kirkwall, no celebration occurred. No word of thanks came for risking her life for the city once again. Since that fateful night, she no longer belonged anywhere. All that remained of Hawke now were fairy tales and rumors passed around until they were a blurred reflection of the truth.  She knew that eventually the people would forget about the noble acts of the Inquisitor as well. But for now, it remained a glorious night.

Hawke eyed the room for Varric, eager to hear the dwarf’s probably embellished version of the fall of Corypheus. When he’d told of her striking him down the first time, he said that Hawke accomplished it with her eyes closed and nothing more than a blast of a fireball. He always had a way of making her seem bigger than life. No doubt he would do the same for the Inquisition.

She frowned when her friend could not be seen. It was highly unlike Varric to miss out on such a night. She thought to perhaps check the tavern. If that smug dwarf could be found anywhere, it would be there. Hawke nearly turned on her heel to head towards the Herald’s Rest, when she stopped dead in her tracks. The face of a ghost stared at her from the corner opposite to her, which made her heart pound and her breath leave her in a gasp.

It couldn’t be Anders, could it?

 

* * *

 

 

Anders stood frozen, his eyes locked on _hers_. When he allowed his traveling companion to sneak him into Skyhold he never thought he would run into her. Everyone else had been easy enough to fool; he took great lengths to remain inconspicuous and his looks had changed over the years, but Hawke was quite possibly the only person from his old life who would recognize him despite the changes. Maybe Varric, but Anders took care to keep a distance from him since his arrival.

For a moment he thought a hallucination clouded his vision. It wouldn't be the first time. But, this was real, not something conjured up by his imagination. Hawke stood before him, and somehow she had found his gaze out of all the people in the room. He swallowed hard and tore his eyes from hers in a panic before pulling his hood lower over his face and slinking down a dark hallway. Based on the tales he overheard during his travels, Hawke left this place long ago. Why did she return? The last thing he wanted was for her to see him this way; to see him even more consumed by Justice than before.

Damn that blood mage friend of his for convincing him to come here! When they came up with a plot to get him inside while his companion consulted with researchers on matters involving blood magic, it sounded like a good idea at the time. Now that he was actually here, it seemed more stupid than anything else. What made him think he could get away with hiding right under the Inquisition's nose?

He didn't know if they would even care about him at this point, not after everything that happened, but he would not take the chance. Would Hawke tell them? He wasn't sure; he no longer knew her. She could hate him for leaving without a word for all he knew. He ached to run to her and hug his old friend; to be normal again just for a few moments, but he forced himself to continue down the corridor and hoped she assumed she’d been seeing things.

Hawke’s gut twisted into knots as their gaze met. How many times had she looked into those eyes before? Eyes that calmed her while she’d been injured, reassuring her that everything would be alright. Despite his longer hair, or the hood he quickly tightened, she would recognize that face anywhere. She often wondered what became of her troubled friend. Even after what happened in Kirkwall, even after all the destruction his actions caused, Hawke still cared deeply for Anders. She’d tried to find him, sent word to his old contacts with not a word returned. It hadn’t surprised her; Anders would forever be in danger, and would not want to be found. So what in the Maker’s name was he doing at Skyhold?

Before she could approach, Anders turned on his heel down the corridor. Hawke wasn’t about to lose him again. She took off after the direction he turned to.

Luckily for Hawke, she knew the halls inside and out. Anders managed to lead himself out into the garden. The night sky hung above, a ghostly shade cast downwards from the moon. Only two others were in the garden, kissing quietly on a bench. She watched as her friend looked about, as if trying to find an alternative way out. She almost called out his name, but decided against that as it would surely alert someone to his presence. Instead, she sped up behind him, grabbing his sleeve gently.

“Are you really going to leave without saying goodbye to me again?” She’d meant the words to come out playful, but Hawke couldn’t hide the hurt that laced her voice instead.

Anders would have jumped completely out of his skin if he wasn't concerned with looking like a weak fool in front of her. Even after all these years, his immediate instinct was to be strong for Hawke. He prayed she would not follow him, but in all honesty he would have been floored if she hadn’t. This was Hawke he was talking about, and she never let _anything_ go without a fight.

He snapped his gaze to her with a cringe and shrugged his arm free, debating if he should tell her to leave him alone and run. She was a ghost; a part of the old life he had put behind him. But… he didn’t want to leave her presence again so soon either. Coming face to face with her again was both devastating and relieving. So much of him felt guilty for everything that had transpired, but the part of him that always cared for her was elated to see her blue eyes boring into him one more time. He wouldn't stay and subject her to the mess that was Anders any longer than necessary, but for a few minutes he would be selfish and allow himself to be around her.

Besides, she deserved an explanation. So much time had passed… Maybe now they could talk about it; now that the hurt was so longer fresh.

He roamed his dark-circled eyes over her, unsure what he was supposed to say, but wanting to say everything. He felt as if he would throw up if he opened his mouth. How many times had he imagined running into her? How many times did she meet him in his dreams just like this? He always thought she would be livid with him if they should ever cross paths again, yet she looked anything but in this moment. It boded well that she hadn't punched him in the face. It meant she didn't hate him.

He sighed and looked away, pushing the nausea down. He would never get a word out if he had to look her in the eyes. "I… I was going to yes. I didn't expect to see you here. I hoped I would never have to burden you again."

Hearing his voice again sent a chill down her spine. It was like watching a vision of the past. Hawke never thought she’d see him again. She knew she should still be furious with him, that she should yell, curse, and demand an explanation. But three long years had passed. And it wasn’t as if she disagreed with him completely. Being a mage herself, she knew the world needed the change he wanted. With all things aside, she deeply missed Anders. Relief jolted through her, knowing that death had not yet claimed him.

With Anders right in front of her, she could truly see the changes in him. His eyes were sunken in and bloodshot. She made out a few new, but faded scars, likely from the Templar war that had barely been settled. Seeing him in such a rugged state brought a pang of sadness to Hawke. He’d never lived in the best of conditions when he resided in Kirkwall, but Hawke always made sure to bring him meals, knowing the mage rarely found the time to eat without her constantly pushing food at him.

“It’s been a long time, Anders. I tried to find you after … well. After everything happened.” She took a deep breath, trying to find the words to say. Where did she go from here? Did she tell him how much she missed him? How relieved she was to have found him?

“What are you doing at Skyhold? Are you in trouble?” came out instead.

Her words were awkward and strained. He didn’t blame her. Was it proper to blurt out the things they wanted to say to each other over the years within a few minutes of seeing each other again? No, he didn’t think so. Some things were so sealed and locked in the past it was best they never saw the light of day again. So what else did they have to do besides engage in small talk?

He dared not tell her he missed her every single day. He couldn't explain that he regretted leaving her more than anything else in his life; especially in the moment she needed him most. He would not say he dreamt about being this close to her again more times than he could count. So instead, he would answer her questions and pretend like the last three years of regret and missing her hadn't happened.

"I came with my… companion. He was summoned here and he has been hiding me. And I… didn't think anyone here would know who I was other than Varric. Who would look for a wanted criminal right in their own backyard?"

Hawke contemplated his words. She had no idea how Varric would react to Anders’ presence at Skyhold. They had been close friends once, but since then Varric voiced more than a few harsh words about the mage. And understandably so. But that didn’t mean he would wish ill on Anders. Varric wasn’t a spiteful person, and neither was Hawke.

“I suggest you steer clear of Seeker Cassandra then. I’m not sure she would know you by sight, but we better not take any chances.” Hawke looked up at him, finally able to meet his gaze. She offered him a smile, and gripped his forearm reassuringly. “It would be a shame to have our reunion interrupted so soon. Don’t you agree?”

Anders grumbled and shook his head. "I'm _well_ aware of the Seeker's reputation. She was after me for a time, until the Inquisition formed and a greater evil became her concern."

He moved his arm from her grip once more and stepped away slightly, not wanting the empty promise of being close to her again to cloud his judgment. There was a reason he ran so long ago. His obsession with the freedom of mages led him to do things he would have never considered in his right mind. When the chantry blew up that day, he lost a part of himself that he could never get back. That moment was when he realized he had become a monster. He would _not_ allow that evil to affect Hawke then, and he wouldn't now. She would never give up trying to fix what couldn't _be_ fixed. And in the end he would take her down with him.

He glanced over to see sadness etched into her features and felt his heart clench. She deserved so much more from him and he wished with everything that he could be the friend she needed him to be.

"Hawke....I...."

He reached out finally and gripped her shoulder, not wanting to come off as a complete asshole. His actions made it seem like he wanted nothing to with her, when in reality staying away was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

"I did miss you and catching up sounds like the best of dreams, I won’t lie… But you shouldn't be around me. You know what Justice has done to me. It’s so much worse now… I don’t even know where I end and he begins… I don't want you to see me this way."

Something in his words brought her back to years ago, when she stood before him in his humble Darktown clinic. She harbored feelings for him then, and he warned her to stay away; told her he would only hurt her in the end. His words hurt her more than she wanted to admit, but she eventually cast her emotions to the side and they became close friends. At the time, she hadn't known exactly how much Justice affected the man before her. She watched him, year after year caving in to the spirit inside of his mind, until Anders became less of who he was, and more of Justice emerged.

He was pushing her away now, just as he had before Kirkwall fell to ashes.

“I’ve heard you say that before. Don’t you remember? I wanted to help you. I could see how tortured you’d become. Maybe if—,”she paused, swallowing down the hurt in her throat. All these years later, and Marian still felt partially to blame. It had been as clear as day that Anders needed her help. Perhaps if she had persisted, none of this would have happened.

“You turned aside my assistance once, and that didn’t exactly work out for the best, did it?” She tried to appear as playful as she could, despite the severity of the situation. “I’m not asking for you to join me in my travels. I’m sure that after tonight, you’ll be on your merry way once again. But … we’re both here now, aren’t we? Don’t be so quick to rush off. We were friends once. Won’t you stay for just awhile? For old times’ sake?”

Anders laughed sadly and ran his hand across his arm. "I do sing the same sad tune over and over again, don't I?"

He was a pathetic individual. Every action he took and every decision he made these days was based off Justice and how his passenger would react. As a result, he did nothing for himself. He never went out of his way to pursue his own interests or do what would make _Anders_ happy. It was a sad way to live, but he did what he had to do to protect others from the abomination he had become.

He glanced back to Hawke. Especially her. She was the most important person to ever enter his life and it would kill him if he ever did anything to harm her. _However_ , her willingness to accept that he would inevitably leave again once this evening passed made it easier to stand in her presence. She wanted him to stay, but not for long. He could handle that… right? It wasn't as if Justice was capable of tearing his way out in an instant. His losing fight to the spirit usually came after long periods of struggle. He could keep him at bay for a time, and that was long enough to catch up with Hawke for an evening. He wanted nothing more so perhaps, just this once, he would make an exception.

A small smile touched his lips and he opened his mouth to speak, but stopped abruptly; pulling his hood tighter and turning his back to a passing couple. Perhaps he was overly paranoid, but he would rather be safe than sorry. "Perhaps… we can discuss this elsewhere? Somewhere less out in the open?"

Hawke nodded in agreeance. Standing in the exposed gardens with so many in close proximity made Anders nervous, and for good reason. Her eyes glanced around for somewhere more private, when an idea came to her.

“I think I know the place,” she replied, tugging on his sleeve for him to follow. Hawke lead him up the ramparts, away from the garden which more people now flocked to as the night progressed on. A few of the Inquisition soldiers stood on guard, nodding to Hawke as she walked past. She recognized them, but couldn’t place any names to the faces. The Inquisition had grown in such numbers, it was nearly impossible to remember every person she’d met.

She rounded a corner, until she came to the room she’d been looking for. Hawke knocked on the door, and when no answer came, she turned the handle, relieved to see it unoccupied.

“This is where I stayed during my time here,” she said, entering the mostly empty room. The living quarters were barren, save for a drawer, a few chairs, and a bed. “A bit of a down grade from my Hightown estate, but it serves its purpose,” she added with a small grin.

Hawke strolled over to the drawer, and pulled it open to find the bottle of whiskey she and Varric drank from her last night at Skyhold still intact. She picked it up, unclasping the top and taking a large swig. It only burned ever so slightly, being of much better quality than the stuff she used to down at The Hanged Man. She passed the half full bottle to Anders.

“Here, you look like you could use a drink.”

He shook his head and handed it back politely, hoping she wouldn't be offended. Long ago he would have thrown back drink with her until he passed out happily in a hay pile. Or the floor; he wasn't picky. But he was no longer that man.

"I can't. It’s hard enough keeping my head clear without adding booze to the mix," he explained before scanning the room nervously. A quick escape from this location would be tricky, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Nobody knew who he was save Hawke, and she wouldn't turn him in. He hoped. If she were setting him up he wouldn't fault her. He'd deserve it after what he had done to her.

 

He shot his eyes to her, hoping her expression would give him a clue to what went through her mind, but she proved difficult to read as always. She would forever be a mystery to him; one of the things he enjoyed about her most. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she would completely throw him off again. It excited him and he missed the hell out of it. He missed the hell out of _her_.

"Standing here with you feels so… surreal. Perhaps you're a pleasant hallucination," he confessed before pushing the hood back and pulling his long hair out from inside of it.

Hawke offered him a sad smile. It pained her to know he would not allow himself one night of rest. Surely, the man was stressed enough, spending every waking hour worrying if someone would recognize him. Sebastian Vale still hunted him, as did many Templars. She feared for her friend. Even after what he’d done, she would protect him to the end. Deep down he was a good person. If only she could get him to relax for just a few minutes before he disappeared again, leaving her worried about his wellbeing.

Hawke turned and moved to the hearth. The room had a chill from the night air, her cheeks rosy and nipped. Mana flowed through her fingertips, allowing her to set aflame to the logs in the fireplace. Soon, an amber glow filled through the room, warming the air around them.

“There, that’s much better,” she said, satisfied. Hawke stood once again, and turned to face Anders. In the light of the fire, she couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked. She’d always thought as much. Even with the years of sleep deprivation, when she gazed upon him she felt as giddy as she had the first moment she saw him.

“I like what you’ve done to your hair. It suits you. You … you look nice, Anders. Better than nice … .” Hawke stopped as soon as the words left. Was she … flirting with him? Maker, she was terrible. Nearly as utterly hopeless as Aveline, she thought. Hawke let out a nervous chuckle, feeling quite the fool.

The corner of his lip turned upwards in a barely-there, crooked smile. He forgot how good Hawke's awkward passes made him feel. Nothing ever came of them, but they were still nice to hear. It amazed him that even after all these years they could slip right back into the lighthearted relationship they always had. Maybe that meant he wasn't as far gone as he feared. He had been in Hawke's presence for a whole half hour and so far he hadn't blown anything up or tried to shove a glowy blue hand through her chest. He deserved a pat on the back for that. Or at least a tray of warm cookies.

"So you're saying the unkempt, on-the-run style suits me?" he asked before running his hand across his scruffy jaw, relaxed enough now to banter with her. "Well if I had known that, I would have stopped shaving or showering a long time ago."

“Oh yes. You look very rugged and mysterious. Women love a little mystery,” she smiled, brushing back her fringe behind her ear. “Although, I wouldn’t stop bathing just yet. Ugh, do you remember those few weeks when Sandal refused to wash up? I swear, I stayed at the Hanged Man just to avoid the stench … and that’s saying a lot! I never understood how Varric and Isabela could stand to live there. Sure, after a few flagons of ale, you barely noticed the smell. Hmm … on second thought, perhaps that was why I always found Bela at the bar.”

An airy sigh left her lips, at the mention of her old friends and her time at Kirkwall. “I miss everyone dearly. Even Fenris and his brooding.” Hawke spent a majority of her time since Kirkwall alone. It was not the life she’d imagined for herself. Often in her solitary, she replayed her memories with her old friends again and again in her mind, wishing there had been a way for them to stay together.

“But you know what?” she asked, her crystal blue eyes peering through her dark bangs to peer at whiskey colored iris’. “I think I’ve missed you most of all.” Hawke’s heart thumped loudly in her chest, as she left herself open and vulnerable.

"Have you?" he asked quietly as he examined her face in great detail, noticing several small changes that in no way took away from her beauty. He could tell she was stressed and that she had been through much since they last saw each other by the lines in her skin and the weariness in her eyes, yet she was still the same Hawke he remembered. She hadn't let time or hardship change her at all, which was more than he could say about himself. He wished he possessed her strength. Maybe he would have been able to control himself better. Or perhaps it wouldn't have made a difference. Who could predict how _anyone_ would react to having a vengeful spirit inside of them?

He kept her gaze as these thoughts ran through his mind, then realized his question probably made her feel awkward. She had just opened up to him and his response wasn't sharing her sentiment, but turning it back onto her. Many years ago _he_ was the one sharing his feelings openly with her whenever the mood struck, now he couldn’t even muster a proper sentence full. He swallowed and turned his eyes from hers before making the effort to give her a better response.

"I… missed you Hawke. More than anyone else I left behind. I think about the others sometimes as well and wonder what they’re doing, but… the only one I truly regret leaving is you. You deserved an explanation before I left but," he paused to clear his throat and look down at the floor. He never thought he would have to explain himself to her face. It was proving more difficult than he could have imagined.

"... I was a coward. Rather than face what I had done and face _you_ , I ran. And I'm still running. Do you know what kind of man that makes me? The kind who doesn't deserve your thoughts. The kind that doesn’t deserve to be missed."

Pain laced Anders’ voice, thick and heavy. Hawke missed the friend she used to laugh with. The little lines that would crinkle at the corner of his eyes when she told a bad joke. The sing-songy voice that would playfully tease her. Time had not been a friend to either of them, but they were still the same people deep inside. She wanted to tear away the prison walls inside Anders’ mind that he kept himself shackled in. If only just a few hours.

Hawke bravely took a few strides forward, until she stood mere inches in front of him. The scent of elfroot and sandalwood filled her nose, smells that had always been uniquely Anders. Maker, she still couldn’t catch a whiff of the herbs without instantly thinking of her dear friend. With the fire cast in the hearth of the room, orange embers danced across his skin. The warm glow erased any imperfections; his new scars, the dark circles under his eyes, the ruddiness of his skin. These things all became beautiful to Hawke.

“Anders,” she spoke softly, running a hand gently across his cheek to capture his attention. When their eyes met, her heart stopped.

“I’ve been so worried about you. I didn’t know where you’d gone, or what happened to you. Every day, I prayed for your safety. I knew you had to be out there somewhere.“ Word of the apostate’s death would surely spread like wildfire, this much Hawke knew. It was the lack of that information that had given her hope each and every day since he disappeared.

Her heart felt heavy, but relieved at the same time. Hawke noted their closeness, the tickle of his beard between her fingers, and his breath so close it warmed her neck. She found herself thrown back into a memory of the two of them together in his clinic in Kirkwall, with Hawke before the man she harbored feelings for. Those emotions came rushing back in a whirlwind of longing and desire. She needed his mouth on hers, the weight of his body, the feel of his skin, making her forget every hurt that had ever been caused.

Without a second thought, her fingers found their way into his hair as she pulled him down and kissed him. No second guessing herself, no regrets, she poured every ounce of her being into kissing him. Maker, how she’d wanted to do that for so long. Her lips caressed his as she gasped softly into his mouth, never wanting the moment to pass. She suddenly needed Anders, just as she needed air in her lungs.

Anders' breath caught in his chest the moment her mouth touched his. The last thing he expected from this evening was to be standing alone in a room with Hawke again, giving into urges they had danced around for years. His hands instinctively shot up to grip her arms and push her away… but instead pulled her even closer and returned the kiss just as ardently with a soft groan.

He knew it was wrong, that he should turn around right that second and leave, but the fulfilment of a long harbored desire kept him in place. He wondered so many times in the past what it would be like to kiss her. He had even considered grabbing her during one of their late night talks to find out more times than he could count. Maker knew he wanted it just as bad as she did back then, she had said so on more than one occasion… but he just couldn't. If he gave into his selfish needs, he would have destroyed her in the long run. He was in no position to be what she needed in the past, and… he wasn't now.

That truth sobered him considerably and he was finally able to pull his lips from hers and take several steps back like a dog that had just been kicked. His sudden movement startled her and she shot him a confused… no… concerned? glance. Before she could do or say anything, he lifted his hands to wave her off and shook his head.

"Hawke… I… you know we can't. There was a reason I turned you down so long ago in Kirkwall," he started with a cringe. He hated that he couldn't give in to what she started. Even now his inner voice screamed at him to continue and pull her back into his arms, but that wasn't the inside voice he was concerned about.

"Justice… he doesn't like me being around you. I don’t want him to do anything to hurt you. You know I couldn't live with myself. I… I should go."

Hawke stood dazed for a few moments. Her lips puffed, swollen and bruised from the passion of their heated moment. She’d never been kissed like that. She wondered for so long what it would be like to have his lips upon hers, and the taste of him in her mouth. And now that she had, she needed it more than ever. The sounds Anders made elicited every hair on her body to stand on end, and she was still all tingles and pinpricks.

Hawke studied him cautiously, debating her next move. Anders genuinely appeared distraught, but desire still burned in his eyes. He wanted her, just as she wanted him. Her heart hurt for him. She wished now, more than ever, there was a way to rid him of Justice. If only so he could stop torturing himself.

“Justice has nothing to fear. I’m not about to turn you into the Templars. I helped you fight with the mages in Kirkwall. And after tonight,” she paused, needing a moment to push her emotions aside. “After tonight, I won’t try to stop you from leaving again.”

In truth, Hawke had long since accepted that Anders was right in pushing her away all those years ago. Being together wasn’t in the stars for them. But that didn’t stop her from wanting him any less. If things were different, if Justice no longer haunted him, she’d love nothing more than to find out if things would work out between them. But allowing herself to fall in love with Anders once more would only cause her pain. Come morning, he would surely be gone again.

She took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “Last time, we never had the chance to say goodbye. And what better way than to sate our curiosity after all these years?” She placed her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. Even if having Anders leave in the morning would surely kill her, she wanted to know his touch more than anything. One night with him would be worth any pain that would come later.

Hawke peered into his amber colored eyes, knowing she could get lost in them forever. “Stay with me tonight, Anders. Let’s make this a night we will never forget.”

Anders felt light and heavy at the same time. He heard her words loud and clear, but he struggled to process them in his mind. She wanted to spend the evening with him. Even after all of this time, even after all he had done, she still wanted him. Hadn’t she moved on? Was there no one else special enough to turn her head from idle fantasies? He swallowed and covered her hand with his own while searching her face.

He wanted so badly to live in a world where they had the luxury of spending passionate, quiet evenings wrapped up in one another. He never _stopped_ wishing for a normal life for both of them. Maybe if he had never screwed things up by allowing Justice to merge with him, they would be together right now living happily ever after in a cottage with little apostates running around driving them crazy.

But he had. And they would never have the chance to find out what might have been.

One evening; that was all she wanted, but one evening would ruin them both and they knew it.

“Hawke,” he started, reaching out to run his fingers softly along her jaw. Her skin was smooth and warm and he wanted nothing more than to continue exploring every inch of it. “That’s the problem. We’ll never forget it. I’ll spend however many years I have left knowing _exactly_ what I am missing out on. I’ll know what it’s like to touch you… to get lost in you…. and knowing I’ll never have it again will be more painful than never having known.”

His touch warmed her inside, and Hawke couldn’t help but nuzzle into his caress. His hands were gentle, but calloused from years of wielding a staff. She cupped her hand over his, keeping it in place.  If she let go, he would back away once again. Anders teetered on the brink before her, threatening to fall over the edge, leaving her curiosity unsated and her longing for him greater than ever.

A sharp breath left her lungs, and she closed her eyes, leaning forward so her forehead rested against his own. She stayed there a few moments, holding on to the bliss of being so close to him. Even after the years apart, he still made her heart somehow sink and soar at the same time. Hawke always cared for Anders, but never so much in this moment. Losing him, spending countless days worrying about him, then to suddenly have him back in her life in the blink of an eye? Nothing could have prepared her for how she felt now.

“Somehow, be it luck or fate, we found each other again,” she spoke barely above a whisper, her eyes still closed. Finally, they fluttered open, filled with every emotion coursing through her veins; regret, sorrow, relief, and foremost: longing. “If you are going to leave, I can’t stop you. Maker knows you’ve never listened to me,” she offered a small, but sad smile. “But if you stay, and by Andraste I hope you do … if you stay, I will show you how much I’ve always wanted you.”

She spent many nights in Kirkwall alone in her bed, thinking of ways to entice Anders to lay with her. A sly grin spread across her lips, a surge of sexual deviance flowing through her. Hawke wanted to show him exactly what he’d be missing out on. Trying to appeal to his emotional needs hadn’t been enough. Perhaps she needed another tactic.

“If you stay,” she whispered against his mouth, leaning forward to take his lower lip between her own, sucking gently followed by a slight nip, “I won’t stop kissing you until I’m out of breath.” One of her hands slid down his torso, gently raking his chest. “If you stay, my hands will explore every inch of you that has been yearning for my touch.”

Hawke pressed her lips to his neck, kissing just below his ear. She sensed his restraint waning, and by the Maker, she was barely holding on herself. Her breath ghosted just below his ear, her body pressed tight against his. “If you stay Anders,” she let out a soft chuckle, her fingers slightly pulling at the front of the waistband of his pants. “I will submit to every single fantasy you’ve thought up of me over the years, while you lay awake in your cot wanting me, but denying your body of what you so desperately needed.”

By the time her last words left her lips, Anders had forgotten how to breathe. His heart pounded in his chest and his skin was alive with prickles. He heard the nagging voice at the back of his head ordering him to make a hasty departure, but after Hawke’s seductive display of affection he couldn’t feel his legs to move. They had flirted in the past, but never once had she been so bold with her desires.

Her hands tugged at his trousers, letting him know that she planned on going through with her whispered promises if he didn’t stop her. He wanted to, he really did. This was a bad idea no matter how amazing it would be, but her pull was too damn strong for a weak-willed man to resist. His hands moved down to grip her arms before pushing her back slightly to stare down at her blushing face. Maker, even looking at her chipped away at his resolve. He swallowed a lump in his chest; his breathing now short and his mouth dry.

“Hawke… That’s not fair… .”

He fought every day since the explosion of the Chantry to remain in control of himself. Hawke wanted to give him one evening where he wouldn’t have to; where he could let go of the paranoia and worry and be in her arms.

He had to take her offer. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t.

Maybe this was a mistake. It might backfire on them, but it could also turn out to be the best night of their lives. If Justice didn’t completely screw it up; that is. There were several things his passenger could do to ensure Anders didn’t become distracted by needs of the flesh; all of which horrified the mage to think about. He could handle all forms of embarrassment or humiliation, but there was no way he would be able to deal with Hawke getting hurt on account of him. It wouldn’t be the first time Justice had presented himself in the least inopportune moment to scare the living shit out of some poor unsuspecting soul.

But… this was Hawke. She knew him better than anyone else, and how severely the spirit within affected him. If anyone was equipped handle one of his outbursts, it was her. She had survived things a lot more dangerous than a crazy, possessed apostate. He trusted her.

So fuck Justice. Anders had held back long enough. He would never get another chance to discover the pleasure of being her arms. She was right; come morning he would be gone, even if leaving would be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. Right now, in this moment, he wanted nothing more than to enjoy all the incredible things this beautiful woman before him presented to him on a platter.

So, he pushed whatever doubts he possessed until this point to the back of his mind. He could feel guilty and brood about it later; right now the only thing that mattered was Hawke.

She stared at him now with held breath; her eyes boring into his while she waited for him to either deny her, or do what they had both wanted for years. He swallowed hard as he released her arms and moved his palms to press against her back instead. He would not be disappointing this woman again; not tonight.

He roamed his gaze over her face and overflowed with warmth when she realized he wouldn’t push her away. The look in her eyes filled him with a sense of happiness he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. His mouth was pressed to hers with eagerness before either of them could say another word. Words wouldn’t mean a damn thing at this point anyway. Tonight they would share so much more and let their hands, mouths, and bodies do the talking.

An exalted gasp left her lips when finally, after what felt like waiting for hours, he kissed her back. The pounding in her chest became soon forgotten, as she rejoiced in how his kiss set her free. Free of self-doubt, free of guilt, free of denying herself this simple pleasure for so long. The roughness of his lips sliding over hers, the press of his body, the warmth radiating from him, her fingers winding into his long hair … Hawke suddenly needed all of these things, and so much more. Every ounce of longing, every bit of pent up energy they’d spent denying one another poured forth.

One of her hands remained at the back of his head, fingers entwining in silken locks, as the other grasped at the collar of his cloak, holding on for dear life, as if afraid he would vanish if she let go. The fear of losing him again pumped adrenaline through her blood, making her desire course stronger than ever.

She gasped as she momentarily pulled away from the crushing force of his lips, peeking up at him through dark eyelashes and glossy blue eyes. “You … I can’t believe how good simply kissing you feels,” she sighed out, lunging forward to capture his lips again. Anders had become a drug, her addiction, and all it took was a kiss. One kiss, and she became hooked.

She whimpered, stealing his tongue into her mouth once more. His taste was intoxicating, and she needed him, every part that he could offer. There was only Anders. Anders and his scent of spice. The pull of his mana thrumming just under his skin, reacting to her own. The flavor of salt and sweat as she suckled at the juncture of his neck, wanting to mark him. To remind him in the days to come that she still remained with him, even after he’d been long gone.

That thought nearly brought tears to her eyes. She blinked hard, willing them away. There would be time to be sad later. Sorrow had become a dear friend to Hawke, never far away from the apostate that had fallen so many times. She gripped onto Anders’ cloak, walking backwards while she pulled him with her, leading him to the bed.

He followed her willingly, his eyes locked on hers as his blood roared through his veins until his pulse pounded in every part of his body. Hawke wasn’t wasting time; a reality that made his heart soar and excitement course through him. Now that they had both silently agreed to give in to desire, he was more eager than ever to touch her and take what he wanted without restraint.

He grabbed at the front of her corseted robes, urgently pulling at the strings in between torrid kisses. Now that his focus was solely on her, he noticed that Hawke was dressed more femininely than he had ever seen her. It only intensified his longing for her. He was so used to seeing her in armor, getting a glimpse of her in attire that showed off her soft curves was a stimulating treat. They showed him exactly what lay in wait beneath them and he couldn’t wait to find out for himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out as his lips grazed hers and he pulled the last string holding the soft leather corset on. It fell to the floor with a soft thump and he stepped over it to push her the last few steps towards the bed. The backs of her thighs bumped into it and he used to opportunity to press even closer and run his hands over the last piece of material keeping her body from him; a olive colored tunic. She felt amazing, even dressed. He didn’t know if he would even survive touching her skin.

He stopped stealing kisses to stare down at her and reach upwards; undoing the strap that held his cloak in place. It fell down his shoulders and joined her corset on the floor. Before they added the rest of their clothing to the pile, however, he had to be certain this was really what she wanted. He hadn’t missed the small glimmer of tears in her eyes. If she were having second thoughts, he would force himself to stop. The last thing he wanted was for her to regret being intimate with him.

“Are you sure, Marian…?”

The sound of her name, her given name, on his lips caused a pleasant shiver to run down her spine. She’d been “Hawke” for so long now. Seldom had any of her friends ever called her Marian. Hearing it come from Anders, in that delightfully pleasing voice of his made her smile and radiate from the inside out.

“More than sure,” she answered in kind, cupping a bearded cheek with her palm. “Anders, I’ve wanted this … wanted _you_ for so long. There is nowhere I’d rather be.”

She leaned forward and kissed him again, this time slower and less hurried. She wanted to take her time in exploring him, to cherish every moment and keep it locked in her memory forever, so when she looked back after he’d been long gone, she could remember in perfect clarity. Every touch, every kiss, every hushed whisper. She needed to remember the way his skin felt under hers, the taste of his kiss … everything.

“Allow me,” she said, unlacing the strings of his tunic. She lifted the garment over his head, staring in awe at the sight before her. His body was battle worn, scars crisscrossing over his thin form. But that told her of the fights he’d won. Battles for the freedom of their kind.

“You are perfect,” Hawke spoke just above a whisper, running her fingers through the light tuft of blond hair on his chest. Her lips peppered kisses on the front of his shoulder, as she pulled at the belt holding his pants his place. It fell to the floor with a clang, echoing in the mostly barren room. Stepping out of her leather boots, she kicked them to the side right before shedding the long green tunic that kept her concealed.

She stood before him in only her small clothes. Anders had seen her in as little a few dozen times in the past, while they washed off the gore after battle. But right now, before him with her soul laid bare, she felt much more exposed. Intimacy had never been something Hawke excelled at. She was far from inexperienced. She’d taken quite a few lovers over the years, but nothing ever lasted more than a few weeks. Since Kirkwall, she’d not allowed anyone close. And never had she cared for another the way she did Anders. Even now, after so many years, her heart sung for him, and him alone.

Her fingers found their way at the hem of his pants again, this time pulling them down. She waited for him to step out of them before pulling him flush to her once more and easing them both onto the bed. They lay on their sides, facing one another as their kisses became more hurried, desperate. She swung her leg around his hip, causing his arousal to press against her. All that separated them was their thin undergarments, and even then he felt miraculous against her.

“Anders,” she chanted his name, as if a prayer, gyrating her hips against him. Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact. Maker's breath, he already felt entirely too good. More than he had a right to. “I’ve thought of this for so long,” she admitted aloud, her eyes meeting his. A wicked smile came to her lips, as she brought his hand to her mouth, taking his index finger into her mouth and sucking gently. She swirled her slick tongue around his digit, releasing it with a quiet pop.

“Tell me,” she quivered at her own words. “How often did you think of me when we were in Kirkwall?” The proud part of her wanted proof that he had made himself suffer, just as he made her suffer by denying her body of what she wanted so badly. Another part of her needed to hear him say the words out loud; to hear that Marian Hawke was exactly who he pictured at night when he took himself in his hand, giving himself the pleasure he refused her to partake in.

“Would it sound too desperate if I said every day?” he replied in between soft pants before gripping the back of her neck and bringing her in for the deepest of kisses. He rolled his tongue with hers and they tangled together for several seconds before he pulled away to bite her lower lip softly. “Or perhaps I’ll lie to save my pride and tell you it wasn’t you I ached for at night for years. Maybe you don’t need to know that it’s _still_ you that haunts every single one of my fantasies,” he breathed out against her skin as his kisses made their way down to her neck. He buried his face there and nipped at soft flesh in between sucks, his arms locking all the way around her so she couldn’t escape their trap if she wanted to.

She was his now and she wasn’t going anywhere until neither possessed the strength to move. He would mark her in every way possible and ensure she never forgot this night or the way he touched her. He wanted her to yearn for him long after he had gone. It was selfish, yes, but he would be damned if he would be the only one tormented after this. He wanted to know that she thought of him just as much as he, her. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted the distance between them to drive them both mad until they could no longer stand it. Maybe then there was a chance they would see each other again. That wish never went away, even after years of not even knowing where she was. Even though he pushed her away, even though he ran to protect her, the need to be around her never left him. And it never would.

How he hated being noble and self-sacrificing.

“You infuriating man,” she panted, raking her nails down his arms playfully. She smiled, unable to help herself, taking much joy from the moment. “You could have spent each and every one of those nights in my bed.” Her fingers caressed him gently, moving down his chest and over his abdomen, teasing him in a slow manner. “You made me wait all these years. I think you’ll have to make it up to me.” Finally, she allowed him to feel her touch, lowering her hand until it found his arousal. She gripped him through the thin fabric, using her thumb to flick over the tip. Hawke moaned softly, taking pleasure from each sound she elicited from Anders. From the noises he’d already been making, he would surely be a vocal lover. That thought sent a shiver to course through her entire body.

Hawke kissed him again, taking his lower lip into her mouth and sucking as she pulled his small clothes down enough to feel his skin in her hand. He was smooth, like silk, yet hard and ready for her. She didn’t want to rush things, not when she only had one night with him. Hawke teased him, hand pumping him slowly, as her mouth found clever ways to distract him; nibbling on his lip, gasping softly under him as she touched him, sucking on the lobe of his ear. She couldn’t help but squeeze her own legs together, seeking some relief from the ache that persisted with each moment.

“You know Anders,” she said softly. “I’ve spent some time with the Wardens recently. I’ve heard this … rumor. About ‘Warden Stamina'.” She looked up at him, her eyes mischievous and her mouth set in a crooked smile. “Is it true?”

Anders’ head was spinning from her touches and he found it hard to concentrate on much else, but he grew sidetracked enough by her inquiry to manage a breathless laugh. “Is that what I have to live up to? Fantasized rumors?”

He shook his head with a another chuckle then grabbed her wrist to pull her hand away from his erection, as much as it pained him, and rolled her onto her back. He pinned both of her hands by her head and hovered over her with impish eyes and an amused grin. “I’m old, woman. I don’t have the stamina of a cocky young Warden who thinks he can slay a thousand Darkspawn with one hand behind his back, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Her responding giggle made his heart skip a beat. It wasn’t a sound he imagined Hawke made very often and he found it to be insanely alluring. He eyed her in slow detail, taking in how beautiful she looked staring up at him with her cheeks flushed and her hair disheveled. He had dreamed of her beneath him a thousand times, but none of them prepared him for the moment they came true. If all he did was lay there for the remainder of the evening staring at her, he would be perfectly content.

Not that he was going to. Anders had so much more planned than staring.

His gaze darkened and he leaned down to plant several feather light kisses on her waiting lips before locking his eyes with hers. “I think the time for conversation is over now, Marian.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond. He was done talking. His mouth was trailing down her neck then shoulder before she got the chance. He wanted more of her; _now_. Not five minutes from now, not thirty seconds from now. He wanted to explore the exquisite reality of being with the woman he had only ever had when his mind wandered to the Fade. No more time would be wasted with words; not when he could think of much better things to do with his mouth.

He removed the upper portion of her smalls in one movement, revealing creamy, full breasts so flawless they trumped anything he had made up in his fantasies. They belonged to Hawke; of course they were everything he wanted. In his eyes she was the most beautiful woman in all of Thedas. She had flaws, scars, and imperfections, but to him they only added to her radiance.

His mouth dropped open slightly as he took in the sight of her. The throbbing in his groin became almost uncomfortable, but he didn’t dare rush this. She was right; he was a fool and she deserved everything he denied her for so long. He moved down swiftly, taking one of her soft breasts into his hand as his mouth showered it in kisses and light sucks. Her skin tasted better than he imagined and he groaned appreciatively before taking her nipple in between his teeth and biting down with light pressure, eliciting soft moans from her that sent chills down his spine.

His other hand moved down to her thigh and he dragged his nails along it, wanting more of her pleasured sounds filling his ears. His tongue flicked across her now hardened and perked nipple as his fingers trailed to the inner parts of her soft leg and moved upwards to graze the outside of the last piece of clothing keeping him from her body. He could feel her wetness through the thin material and he groaned against her skin, wanting more than ever to be lost deep inside of her.

Little gasps escaped Hawke’s lips, without conscious volition. Every caress of his hands on her flesh made her aware of her own hypersensitivity. A long time had passed since she’d been touched. Anders being the one to do so now made it all the more exciting. His hands caressed her gently, as if she would shatter like glass. She didn’t have to worry about what steps to take next. Her only job was to allow Anders to explore her. Hawke often wondered what role the mage took in bed. He always followed her without question in the past, so experiencing him lead her for once thrilled her to no end.

As his skilled hands teetered around the tops of her thighs, Hawke began to squirm. The anticipation of knowing his touch had her moaning and panting softly. Who knew that even the simplest caresses could almost undo Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall?

“Maker’s breath, Anders!” she sighed, her lashes fluttering closed. “You are such a tease.” She chuckled softly, enjoying his hands on her. Even so, she still squirmed beneath his attention.

She loved everything about this moment, despite her protests. Loved how he made her wait, just on the verge of begging. Loved how deep and utterly sexy his voice had dropped. Hawke opened her eyes, searching his own.

“Please.” One word was all she could muster, her brain unable to think past the cloud of lust that consumed her.

“Please, what?” he asked huskily before leaning up and placing a feathery kiss against the soft groove between her collarbones. Call him unusual, but he had always found that particular area attractive. He had been wanting to kiss her there since he first realized his feelings for her extended well beyond those of friendship.

“Please touch you?” he continued, leaning up to whisper against her jawline as his hand moved first upwards, then sunk beneath her undergarments to caress the warmth between her legs. Her body reacted to his touch instantly and she moved her hips into his hand for more, but he wasn’t done teasing her yet. He could almost feel her disappointment manifest into the physical realm when he pulled his fingers away just as quickly as he placed them there.

“Or maybe,” he started again, pausing to grip the material around her hips and slide it downwards off of her shapely, cream colored legs, “you want more than a touch? Is that it?”

She was finally bare before him, and he would never be able to get the visual out of his head; not even if he were turned Tranquil. He swallowed a lump in his throat and swooped down to run heated kisses from the space between her breasts, down to her bellybutton. This woman would haunt him for the rest of his days, and he was perfectly fine with that. Everyone carried demons with them; his was just a blue eyed, breathtaking vision of beauty and desire personified.

His mouth explored the length of her lower stomach with impassioned haste, his hands moving downwards simultaneously to push her thighs apart so he could fit his shoulders between them. In prolonging the denial of her pleasure, he was also torturing himself. It was becoming painful to hold back, but he wouldn’t take anything for himself until he knew for sure she was already satisfied. He would make everything up to her, just as she requested he do.

His lips trailed her inner thigh and he nipped at her skin, provoking more of the small gasping moans that were quickly becoming his favorite sound. He wanted to rouse even more from her; to leave her panting and begging him to take her. With a pounding heart, he continued his onslaught of fiery kisses until he reached the silky wetness between her thighs.

One taste; that’s all it took. One taste of her and he was completely and irreversibly enthralled; a slave to her and her desires. Just one, and all he wanted was to do everything in his power to please her. His tongue moved over her and he could no longer hold back the passion he held for her. He had to get as much of Hawke as possible and no force in the world would succeed in tearing his adoration and affection away from her. He licked and sucked her most sensitive spots eagerly with a stifled groan; his arms moving upwards to wrap around her thighs and pull her firm against him so she was trapped against his mouth.

Hawke threw her head back, a cry forcing its way past her lips. The sensation of his mouth moving against her had her fingers curling in the sheets, every nerve on her body alive and singing. She’d been wound so tightly, ever since that first kiss. Now he was kissing her in an entirely different way, and it couldn’t be any more satisfying.

His tongue glided across her, giving her the relief she so desperately and urgently sought. She’d never known true pleasure until that moment, his skillful tongue making her mewl under his ministrations. Anders took her to heaven on earth.

Hawke’s fingers wound into his blond locks, needing to find purchase on something … anything. It was as if everything inside of her came to life, responding to every little caress, every lick he gave her. Tiny hairs across her body stood on end, and her legs shook, even as she hooked them over his shoulders.

“Oh sweet Maker,” she groaned, her voice coming out high and breathless. She’d heard stories of Anders and the many ways he killed time in the circle. She knew he was experienced and always had her suspicions that he’d be an attentive lover. But the things he was doing with his mouth … he was taking it to a whole other level.

"Don't you dare stop," she gasped out, trying to make it sound like an order, but instead her words came out as a whimper followed by another soft cry.

Anders hummed against her skin in response, his mouth too preoccupied to give her much else vocally. The way her body reacted to him left his own on fire. Every moan, every involuntary jolt; he reveled in them all. They fueled him onwards, his tongue and lips working the most sensitive parts of her to bring her closer and closer to relief.

He glided his hand along her thigh now that he was certain she wouldn’t be going anywhere. She was fully invested, her hips moving against him and her hands locking him in place by his hair. His fingers skimmed along her flesh, eventually slipping past the underside of his chin. He moved two of them along her wetness in light strokes until they found their way gently inside of her, a tingle moving down his spine as her breath hitched in turn.

He refocused his eyes upwards to watch her as he gently stroked the soft ridges within her to stimulate more powerful sensations for her. She was magnificent. Her chest heaved with every pant and her skin glistened with light perspiration. Watching her in the throes of passion would satisfy him if he got nothing else tonight, but he wanted so much more. If he wasn’t careful, he would lose himself before they even got to the fun parts.

As he hummed against her, it caused a vibration which made Hawke’s body arch against him. Her hips sought out his touch, moving on their own accord, bringing her closer to his eager mouth. The slick of his tongue pressing against her created incredible ecstasy. It was all too much, yet not enough at the same time. She needed something more.

“Anders,” she keened out, almost unable to form any words or coherent thought. Not even her most sordid dreams of Anders could compare to the way he made her feel now. He continued to lap at her, as if she were his favorite treat. His fingers plunged in and out of her, stroking a spot that made her delirious with desire. Hawke quaked beneath him, unable to hold back any longer.

She gasped a curse under her breath, as she cried out to the ceiling above. A few more flicks of his velvety tongue, and Hawke found her bliss. Her vision became bright as wave after wave crested over her. Her fingers wound into his blond locks, needing to hold on to something as she rode it out. Her body sang with pleasure, as did she, shaking steadily as her climax slowly diminished. Hawke’s eyelashes fluttered open after a few moments, as she tried to catch her breath.

“You,” she gasped, gazing down at the man between her legs, “certainly know how to show a girl a good time.”

Anders licked his lips and lifted his head higher so he could see the look of satisfaction on her face. A goofy grin spread across his own and he leaned his cheek against her thigh while eying her reddened cheeks and mussed hair. “You almost suffocated me at the end there,” he teased before kissing her skin softly and taking a long, contented breath. “You’re delicious.”

Truth was, he had never enjoyed pleasuring a woman with his mouth so much. Then again, he had never been as connected to another woman the way he was with Hawke. He swallowed a lump and smiled at her, considering himself very lucky to be the object of her desires. If foreplay was this good, he couldn’t wait to see how amazing bedding her would be.

No, not bed her. She was so much more than that.

He couldn’t wait to make love to her. Is that what they were doing this evening? It felt like it. He had only ever made love to one person in his life, but even that experience paled in comparison to what he shared with Hawke now. His old lover was no more. He had lost him right when Hawke came into his life. Maybe that also played a part in his hesitancy with her in the past. It seemed everyone he got close to got hurt, or worse.

He sighed and shook his head, pushing depressing thoughts like that aside. The past was no longer relevant. For now, all that mattered was tonight and giving everything to Hawke that he had denied her, what he denied himself, for so long.

Now sobered by the weight of how important this night was to him, he moved back on his knees and hooked his fingers in the waist of his pants before sliding them the rest of the way off his hips then thighs. He watched Hawke's eyes as he removed them, wondering if she saw him in the same manner he did her. Was he as beautiful to her as she, him? Were his emotions deeper than hers, or did she share them just as strongly?

If only he could ask.

Once he was unclothed and exposed before her, he slowly moved forward and crawled towards her; his gaze never leaving hers. Anders slinked upwards, over her hips, her torso, and past her chest until they were face to face. His hair fell down around her like a curtain, casting shadows over her features and making her blue eyes stand out even brighter. His fingers ran upwards, dancing along her ribs then chest before finally settling on her jawline.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he whispered with a sullen smile, his thumb reaching out to graze along her lower lip gently.

“Nor can I,” she smiled, cupping his stubbled cheeks in her hands and pulling him down to kiss her. She parted her lips for him, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth. She tasted herself on him, and Maker, it only heightened her arousal; her need for Anders.

Desire coursed through her veins, taking over her every coherent thought. The feel of his body above hers drove her wild with need. She kissed him passionately, lips and tongue dancing with his own as she whimpered beneath the man she knew she would never fully have. The man she would always want and love, no matter where their paths might take them.

Hawke wrapped her long slender legs around the small of Anders’ back, bringing him right against her. Her core throbbed with need. She moaned softly, rubbing herself against him. She would not be complete until they joined together. Until Anders took her, and made her his. If only for one night … .

“Anders,” she whined, kissing him again. She looked up into his whiskey-shaded eyes, pleading with her own. “I can’t wait any longer. Please, love. I need you.”

Love. It rolled off her tongue so easily, as if she’d called him such a million times before. She lay vulnerable and wanting beneath him, waiting for him to close the distance that final inch so they could finally be one.

He was inside of her just moments after her panting words left her swollen lips. Her beseeching request more than enough motivation for him to finally stop torturing the both of them and give them what they craved so desperately. The second her warmth encompassed him, a relieved groan escaped him and he shivered with pleasure. She accepted him in fully, her body pulling him deeper until he was buried as far as she could take him.

He watched with bated breath as her mouth dropped open slightly and her brow furrowed. The way she gasped out then arched into him in response to his body connecting with hers was unbelievably erotic and stimulated him even further.

“Hawke,” he sighed out as his hand pushed its way into her mussed hair and his hips swayed forward again, sending a wave of warmth through his entire body.

“Anders,” she responded with a soft cry. Their hips met, his flesh deep within her, joining them together as one. At long last. Her eyes fluttered as her gasps filled the air, as her body took him inside again and again.

Nails rained down his back, leaving crescent patterns in their wake. Each pump of his hips had her holding on tight. Waves of complete and total pleasure consumed her. Hawke gazed upwards, seeking his eyes. To see him look upon her with such euphoria etched onto his face had her whimpering beneath him.

Hawke always imagined that when they finally came together, it would be rough and hurried. Animalistic even. But Anders was so gentle and slow with her, and somehow it made everything that much better. He wasn’t just rutting with her, he was making love to her. It was unlike any coupling she’d been a part of before.

Long legs wrapped tightly against the small of his back, bringing him as close to her as possible. Her hands sought out his own, entwining her fingers with his as she lifted them above her head to rest on the soft pillows below. She wanted to feel every part of him against her.

He pinned her there, his mouth grazing and kissing every part of her jaw, neck, and shoulders; his breath thick and heavy against her skin. The hair on his jaw left small patches of red on her flesh, marking her as his just as much as the small bite and suck marks. He rolled his hips against hers more heatedly now as the passion between them increased, but still made a conscious effort to prolong the beauty of the moment for as long as possible. No easy task when the woman beneath him addled his mind and made it near impossible to do anything but become lost in her.

The sounds she made with his every thrust drove him wild and he couldn’t help but respond in kind with his own pleasured groans. The sensations their bodies created together ignited all of his senses and ate away at his self-control. He would never get enough of her in the limited time they had. He wanted to hear her impassioned moans and sighs for more than just one fervent evening. How could he go on knowing he had experienced her curvaceous body moving perfectly with his only once? He had damned himself for giving into her seductions this evening; for he would never be contented without her again.

“Hawke,” he moaned out huskily against her jaw as one of his hands released from hers to slide downwards and caress one of her moving hips. “I never want to leave this bed.”

“Then don’t,” she responded immediately, her skin tingling beneath his exertions. Each slide of him within her had her every nerve awakened, singing at their union. She lifted her hips, meeting his thrusts halfway. She could never have enough of him.

Hawke smiled mischievously, slipping her fingers away to press on his chest. She hooked her legs around his, and flipped them, so that she were atop of him now. A grin of triumph ghosted across her lips, as she sat upright, running her fingers down his chest.

“Stay here with me,” she spoke softly, as she rose and fell against him. Wisps of dark hair clung to her face, pink and warm with tiny beads of perspiration. “Stay with me, and you can have this whenever you want.” As her hips came down on him, a shuddered moan escaped her. She looked down at Anders, and her heart and body both soared.

Anders laid there for a moment, thrown off by the sudden change. It wasn’t the new position that caused him to take pause, but the way she looked above him with thin beams of moonlight highlighting her perfect silhouette. She looked like a vision; sent to him from the Maker. He was no longer confident a divine being watched over them, but she made him want to believe again. How could he not acknowledge the existence of cosmic power in such a perfect moment of bliss?

He stared in awe as she moved atop him and slowly lifted his calloused hands to run them along her damp skin; over her torso first, then breasts. He tingled when she hissed air in softly, her skin sensitive to even the lightest caresses. He wanted to give into her request to stay so badly, it was almost a physical ache.

“I never wanted to leave Hawke,” he confessed in between husky breaths before pulling her down by her shoulders to kiss her almost apologetically. He never got to tell her why he disappeared before. He never even got a chance to tell her how sorry he was for walking out on her without a word when she needed him the most. The guilt he carried for doing so would haunt him forever. He ended the kiss; his hands roaming along her back before holding her to him. He wished he never had to let go. “Please believe that.”

She lay flush against him, their bodies pressed tightly together. Each snap of his hips up into her sent little sparks down her spine and throughout her entire body. She rested her head by his shoulder, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling of Anders. Anders and his strong hands that glided across her skin. Anders and his breathy moans each time he surged through her. The smell of elfroot in his hair, the way his gentle words plucked at her heart. Being with him brought a sense of peace to her mind, body, and soul.

The pain in Anders’ voice made her heart swell. She knew his words to be true. That if things had been different, if perhaps Justice wasn’t a part of him, they would have been together. Forever. Hawke wished for so long that things had been different. Prayed to a Maker she wasn’t certain she believed in. But praying only got her so far. For now, they were joined, body and soul. It was more than she could ever hope for, and it would have to be enough.

An overwhelming onslaught of tenderness rushed her senses. Even if what they had wouldn’t last forever, if it were only for one night … what they had was beautiful. No poet could ever do their love justice, for it was a love that time nor death could possibly conquer. Hawke quivered and shook above him, crying out as every ounce of love and passion she harbored for this man took over and brought her to climax. Her body pulled tight like a bow, and then released, wave after wave of euphoria claiming her every nerve. “Anders,” she hissed through her teeth. In that moment, his name became the only thing that existed to her. It was her truth, her prayer, her salvation.

He clung to her; his heart roaring in his ears and his skin alive and vibrating. He had never felt so exposed and vulnerable in all his days of being. He had spent so much of his life hiding himself from the world; be it through humor or broken walls. Few people saw the real Anders; only the version he wanted them to. Yet, in a single drop in time, Hawke obliterated every wall he had put up and revealed to him parts of himself he hadn’t realized were there. She showed him real beauty, absolute happiness, and what it was like to truly live.

He watched her break apart and shatter above him; felt her entire body shudder and tremble in the most sensual of ways. The sensation of her walls pulsating around him caused tiny explosions of stars to erupt behind his eyes; pushing him dangerously close to plummeting into the abyss. He fought it even as his body betrayed him, knowing it would mean the end of them. Every part of him wanted to hold off, to prolong their love making for as long as possible, but seeing her fall apart before his eyes sent his body and spirit spiraling. He dug his fingers into her back as his own release tore through him; his head pushing back into the pillow and his jaw clenching with a deep groan.

Hawke allowed her body to sag against his own, perspiration slick between them. Her head rest by his for several long moments, as she sensed his heartbeat against her flesh. Now that her lust had been sated, and they lay post coitus, worry planted inside of her mind. Hawke kissed him tenderly, then forced her body to part with his, a simple act, yet excruciatingly painful. They were no longer connected as one, and Hawke feared now that he would vanish from her life once again. This time for good.

She lay on her side, draping an arm over his chest, writing lazy patterns across his chest with her fingertips. She forced herself to look into his eyes, although she remained afraid.

“I meant every word I said Anders. I do love you. I always have.”

He stared down at her, his own gaze tender and soft. His mind was still in a blurred fog from the intensity of their release, but her words cut through like the sharpest of daggers and caused his chest to tighten. Hawke loved him. Deep down he had always known. He saw it in her eyes in moments of weakness, felt it in even the lightest of comforting touches. He returned it in his own way time and time again, but neither of them ever dared say it. They both knew that if they crossed the line back then it would have ended horribly.

He smiled slightly, amused by the irony of them sleeping together now even though it would have the same results. Maybe now they didn’t care how badly it hurt. Adding more pain to the already overwhelming levels they both carried wouldn’t make much of a difference. It would be like pouring more water into the sea.

He reached out and touched her face, both elated and saddened by her proclamation. Every part of him wished he could stay there in her arms endlessly and hear her tell him over and over, but reality was cruel and cared not for whimsy. His fingers roamed softly along her jaw and chin, like a blind man trying to memorize every contour of her beauty to burn her into his mind’s eye. He would need the image of her right now, looking so beautifully tousled and drunk from their love, to keep him warm for the many cold, lonely nights ahead.

“Surely, you know how much I love you back… .”

A warm smile spread across her face as she rested her head gingerly on his chest. Hawke closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his heart pulse beneath her. His words sated her soul, as his body had her desire. “You’ve no idea what that means to me.” She hummed happily, feeling as though a huge weight removed itself from her shoulders. For so long, she remained alone. Away from anything that might be considered her home, away from her friends, away from Anders. Maker, how she missed him. And now that she lay in his arms, his heat surrounding her, she never wanted to be without him. Not ever. At that moment, Hawke knew she’d follow him through the depths of the void just to be at his side.

The frosty wind lashed against the window, the sound shrill and harsh. The world could tremble and fall around them, and Hawke dared think she wouldn’t even notice. Not with Anders’ arms tight around her, his breath shallow against her ear. She grew tired, noting the first rays of sunlight creeping through the window. She wanted to stay awake, just a little longer, to cherish the way his body felt next to hers. But it became an increasingly difficult task with the exhaustion settling into her bones. Finally, she gave in, allowing sleep to claim her thoughts.

 

* * *

 

 

Some time later, Hawke awoke to the sound of chirping from the birds passing by her window. She let out a yawn, her mind wandering to her days in the Amell estate. She so often awoke to that very sound. Images of times long past flooded her mind: drinks with friends in a seedy yet familiar bar, the warmth of a comforting home, visits to her cherished friend in his humble clinic, smelling the scent of sandalwood on his skin as she neared … .

Her eyes slowly fluttered open, a smile on her face as she realized the scent of sandalwood did not just appear in her memory, but lingered beside her as well. She turned on her side to greet Anders a good morning, but when she rolled over, she found that he no longer occupied the spot in her bed. Still, his scent remained.

“Anders?” she called out, sitting up, and patting the spot where just hours ago he had lain with her. The sheets were cold to her touch, meaning he’d not been there for some time. Her stomach lurched, fear replacing the joy she’d felt but moments before. Hawke climbed out of bed, dressing herself in a hurried pace. _Maybe I’m just over reacting. Perhaps he’s only in the kitchens, fetching us both breakfast._ These thoughts became more desperate by the second, until she was finally completely dressed. She knew deep down he would not dare risk being spotted out in plain sight. Still, she prayed.

Just as she were about the leave the room to search for him, a parchment by the end table caught her eye. _No, please,_ she silently begged, her feet moving slowly towards it, as if they were nearly frozen in place. Her body did not want to believe it, any more than her heart did. She knew before they slept that the chances of him fleeing were high. Still, she allowed herself to fall back in love with him. Truly, she’d never stopped. But being with him reignited the flame she ignored for so long.

She stood before the paper, keeping her eyes shut, wishing it all away. But a minute later, when she dared open them again, the paper remained, taunting her. Hawke sat back down on the bed, picking up the letter. For something so small, it seemed to weigh heavily in her hands. When she finally read it, her eyes met five words. Five words that tore her world apart.

_‘I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.’_

Her breath fell out in a trembled sigh, as she bit back the tears that threatened to fall. All that remained of their night together was five short little words. She hadn’t even the chance to say goodbye to the man who owned her heart, and would continue to as long as she lived.

Marian Hawke was alone, once again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read our story. We are sorry, not sorry for destroying your feels. 
> 
> Feedback is welcome! 
> 
> To join a fantabulous Bioware group on Facebook click [ HERE](https://www.facebook.com/groups/biowareownsmysoul/)


End file.
